Theta
by Commodore Norrington
Summary: The team runs into what appears to be an alien version of roadkill. Ronon wants to cook it; Rodney is having none of it.


A/N: This was written a while ago, for the-Bookworm-Princess, who gave me the first and last lines, but I only recently rediscovered it and thought I'd share. Enjoy!

* * *

"I think it's dead," Ronon commented, poking at the stinking lump with the toe of his boot.

"Oh, really?" Rodney retorted, snappish after a long day exploring the empty planet. "What was your first clue? The smell? Or the way it's covered in something red and sticky?"

"On Athos, there was a creature which covered itself in tree sap as part of its mating ritual," Teyla interjected, tired of Rodney's superiority.

Rodney was not deterred. "And did it lie in the middle of the forest like a statue?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"No," Teyla admitted. John got the feeling that had she not been Teyla, she would be sticking her tongue out at Rodney. Time to step in.

"It doesn't really matter," he reminded them all, stepping onto the path as if to continue on their way. "Let's get going."

"I just thought we might need some food," Ronon rumbled from where he still stood next to the dead animal.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Rodney exclaimed, his face warring between horrified and disdainful.

"I, uh –" John had been taken by surprise by Ronon's suggestion, too, but was trying to be a bit more polite about it, "– I don't think we'll need it, buddy. But, uh, good thinking. Come on. Let's go." He tried again to get them walking along the forest path.

"It's gonna be dark before we get back to the Ring of the Ancestors," Ronon said, still not moving. John was starting to have trouble reining in his exasperation.

"Come on, it's hardly three," he argued, pointing at the sun to prove his point. To his horror, he found his finger dropping by visible intervals as it followed the glowing sphere. "What the hell?"

"The days are shorter here," Teyla explained unnecessarily. "Ronon is right. We are at the least two hours from the Gate. It will be dark in a quarter of that time."

"Wait, what?" Rodney interjected, frantic. "We're not going to stay here overnight. We're not! There could be," he searched for a suitable deterrent to their staying, "wolves, or-or-or…some of those things." He pointed at the animal Ronon stood over. "We don't know what they eat. It's dangerous!"

John sighed. "They're right, Rodney. It's almost dark already. We'll never make it back to the Gate. But we haven't seen any wildlife all day, save him." He, too, pointed at the creature. "Don't worry so much."

"How is staying in the dark forest all night a better plan than walking through it for a couple of hours to get home?" Rodney insisted.

"It's dark," John explained slowly. "Someone could trip or something. Or if there are lions and tigers and bears, at least here we can build a fire to scare them off."

"Fine," Rodney grumbled, outvoted. "But don't come screaming to _me_ to save you from the big bad wolf when it comes."

They went to work setting up a makeshift campsite while the sun set at an unbelievable speed. By the time they finished, it was pitch dark and they were in sore need of the fire Teyla had started. They huddled around it, glad for its warmth as the temperature plummeted in the absence of the sun.

"Anyone hungry?" Ronon asked after a couple of hours. John thought he seemed rather too keen on cooking the horrible dead animal.

"I am _not_ eating that…thing," Rodney declared firmly, crossing his arms to prove it.

"I think we have enough supplies to avoid that, Rodney," John assured him, rolling his eyes as he reached for his pack. He rifled through it, searching for the MREs he always kept stored in the bottom.

"Problem?" Ronon asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't…" John frowned, digging deeper. "Where the hell did my MREs go?"

There were a few moments of confused searching before three pairs of eyes turned toward the slowly reddening astrophysicist. He was trying so hard not to look guilty it was almost funny. Or would have been if they weren't so hungry.

"I was hungry!" he defended himself feebly.

"There was enough there for the four of us _all day_, McKay," John growled.

"Hypoglycemic!" Rodney reminded him – unnecessarily.

"Yeah, well, thanks to you, looks like Ronon gets to have his little barbecue after all," John scowled. Rodney's smug, guilt-ridden expression melted like butter. Ronon, on the other hand, couldn't have been more delighted. He strode downwind to where the animal still lay. He reached down and grasped it by the scruff of its neck, holding it up appraisingly. It was about the size of a medium-sized dog and covered with fluffy grey fur, like a cat's, though this was matted with patches of what looked like tar in the firelight. Its tail, which had apparently been curled around its body but now dangled beneath it, resembled a string that had been frayed at the end. Of course, the appendage could have been a seventh leg; John wasn't entirely sure. Its face wasn't very clear because of the way Ronon was holding it, but John thought he could see a couple of pointy ears and a vaguely triangular head.

As Ronon brought it nearer to the fire, suddenly the creature sprang to life and began hissing and spitting, clawing at Ronon's outstretched arm and yowling to bring the house – forest – down. John thought the sound reminded him of a car screeching to a halt, or maybe a ten-car pileup, or a train-wreck. It was hard to tell. He didn't have long to think about it, though, because Ronon, in his surprise to find the animal still alive and fighting, had dropped the thing and it was streaking toward Rodney with unnatural speed.

John jumped to his feet to try to intercept the creature but he was miles too late. Rodney hadn't even had time to throw his arms up to defend himself. The animal barreled straight into his chest with the force of a freight train – John heard a loud "oof" from Rodney as the brute collided with his ribcage – and…dropped into his lap. Had the impact knocked the animal out?

No, it was still awake and staring at Ronon warily, but it lay in Rodney's lap quivering and not even trying to make a run for it. Rodney stared at it, stunned, before carefully reaching out a hand and running it along the thing's head.

The thing made a noise like a chainsaw and quivered even more. Rodney kept rubbing, scratching, petting and the creature got louder and louder and vibrated like an unbalanced washing machine. Rodney seemed just as pleased as the animal and apparently oblivious to his companions' complete shock.

"McKay," John managed after several minutes. "What…what the hell?"

"It's a cat," Rodney explained. "Well, a catlike creature anyway. See?"

John supposed it looked like a cat, if a cat had been born to a bug and a small elephant and then ran into a wall headlong at a very young age. But it did have a look in its eyes, a certain superiority that reminded John strangely of Rodney.

"Whatever it is," Ronon said, stepping closer and causing the cat-thing to hiss like a steam whistle, "it's still meat."

"What!" Rodney's indignation was almost cute. "You can't be serious. It's a cat!" He said it the way other people might say, "It's a child!"

It seemed they had finally found something Rodney would not eat, John mused. Or rather, would not eat on moral grounds. Once Rodney had identified the thing as a cat, he wouldn't hear a word against it. Ronon probably wouldn't have let that stop him from trying to eat it anyway, but whenever he came within five feet of the pair, the cat-thing bared its teeth and gave either its steam-whistle hiss or a menacing growl. Ronon insisted, however, that it was neither of these things that put him off the cat-thing.

"It's got eyes like my grandmother," he grunted shortly, scowling into the fire. "I keep expecting it to tell me not to get mud on the floor."

"Its eyes remind me of my first training master," Teyla replied, nodding slightly. "He scolded me harshly for my many mistakes."

John kept his own thoughts about the cat's eyes to himself.

They passed the night sleeping in shifts, though John, Ronon and Teyla confided to one another that Rodney had been awake on each of their watches, completely absorbed in the cat. Teyla said she'd heard him singing to it. By the time they were ready to leave for the Gate, the three of them were thoroughly sick of the animal that had so captured Rodney's attention.

As they trudged to the Gate, tired and hungry, they watched in disgust as Rodney crooned to the cat in his arms. John was carrying the scientist's pack since, Rodney said, Theta weighed quite enough. Apparently the thought of leaving 'Theta' behind hadn't occurred to him.

Ronon fell into step next to John, scowling at the grey animal. Theta glared back. Turning to John, Ronon muttered, "Next time, let's do it _my_ way."


End file.
